


Every Day Another Loss

by MelodyoftheVoid



Series: Fading Reflections [5]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dark Magic, M/M, No one is having a good time, dammit Zib, your actions have consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25312162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyoftheVoid/pseuds/MelodyoftheVoid
Summary: There are so many things one can lose.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), Zim & Tak
Series: Fading Reflections [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817320
Comments: 103
Kudos: 208





	1. Self

**Author's Note:**

> A view from behind the looking glass

Many things confused Dib Membrane. His curiosity was one of his defining features after all. So many mysteries pulled at the fringes of his knowledge, enticing him to ask questions. But one of the greatest remained his brother. 

Or rather, why his brother still bothered to toy with him. 

Zib had gotten what he wanted. He was next in line for the throne with Dib becoming less of an issue by the day, yet he still came into the study where Dib’s mirror sat almost every night. He could move it anywhere else, some abandoned room maybe. The castle had those to spare; just leave him to fade away there. But no, his twin simply went about his business without even sparing him a glance. In his own words, “Payback for years of neglect.” 

His routine went as such: with the rising of the sun, he’d be bound to Zib. Existing only the scattered reflective surfaces around the palace. Unable to speak or move on his own. Once the sun set however, he’d be stuck in the study, forced to stare at the same bookshelves night after night. The curse prevented him from sleep, as he had no corporeal form to recharge. He still thought back to the glimpses of Zim he’d seen in that ballroom, reluctantly being led across the floor in a passionless waltz. A far cry from the dances they used to share. Dib could swear that they locked eyes. That Zim had seen _him_ in the reflections of the room.

But that was wishful thinking, and that only led to heartbreak. 

After all he’d learned quickly that trying to talk or reason with Zib was useless. The younger of the two tuned out his cries and pleas for mercy easily. So, Dib only spoke when the room was empty, to fill the space with any kind of noise. To stave off the creeping void that came with the curse. He tried to keep track of the time based off of the sliver of sky he could spot from his position on the wall. 

He prayed it hadn’t been four months. 

So, he resigned to yet another night in the cold company of his brother. Dib sat on the “floor”, watching him go about, well, whatever he was doing. Something to do with armor. He couldn’t quite bring himself to care. No, what caught his eye was the way Zib looked. 

To put it bluntly, he looked almost green. Not in the way he used to when they’d sail to Irk, heaving over the side of the ship when the sea tossed the vessel just a bit too much, but a nigh all-encompassing verdant shade. Pinkish swollen veins snaked on the sides of his face, highlighting the contrast even further. 

Was this the magic’s doing? Dib struggled to remember what little information he’d found on the practice of magic and its effects all those years ago. Perhaps this was what happened to those who used it out of malice, out of hate. A wave of anguish hit Dib at the thought. Hate.

He knew that the two had always had their differences, and there was no doubt that their father’s preferential treatment only widened that divide, but… Zib hated him. Did Zib think he hated him too?   
  


Did he think that he went out of his way to make Zib’s life hell, and thus decided to return the favor? To doom him to die alone the way he’d assumed he would?

Sometimes, he could feel himself become more hollow, less… human. Emotions and memories lost to the curse like sand through an hourglass. It was all he could do to clutch onto what he had left and pray to not lose more. He knew the knife on the table was his own, but why? What did it mean to him? He ached with the loss yet could not name the reason. One day, would he even recognize Zib? Or Gaz? His father? Zim? Would he even be recognizable? Or would the translucency that inched up his body consume him completely?

No. He would not resign himself to this fate. He needed to show his twin he cared. That he didn’t want Zib to hurt himself like this. Whatever was causing his metamorphosis clearly caused some kind of pain, Dib could see it in the way he collapsed in his chair, sweat beaded on his brow as he clutched at his head. In the small circles he’d rub into his hand as his fingers clenched and spasmed. 

He’d watched Zib pass out at his desk more nights than he’d seen him leave for his chambers.

Dib steeled his nerves. In all likelihood Zib would just ignore him, brush him off as if he’d never spoken at all. He had to try though. For both their sakes.

“I’m worried about you…”

The whisper almost echoed in the room, all other sound quieting to let Dib’s voice ring.

Zib stopped messing with the armor, face stuck somewhere between anger and shock. Fully caught off guard by the statement. Dib waited for him to go back to working, yet he did not. The prince turned to the mirror, really looking at his captive. A flash of confusion shot across his twin’s face, followed by what almost looked like fear. 

Zib schooled his expression to one of mild disdain. Cold determination in his eyes. 

With a quiet sneer of, “You should worry more about yourself”, Zib simply left the room. Grabbing the knife off the table; he left his brother in complete silence yet again inside the study that Dib feared would become his tomb.

Dib leaned his back against the glass, hoping against hope he’d done something, anything right. That Zim would find him, that they’d one day reunite. That he wouldn’t lose everything. But that’d have to remain a mystery for now, wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS!!! The absolutely incredible Gh0stlyarts made these gorgeous works of art, and I can't thank them enough!!! Here's the [ so you can go support them!!!](https://gh0stlyart.tumblr.com/tagged/i-know-i-said-it-was-3-parts-but-i-added-another-little-one-just-because)


	2. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A point of no return.

Zib stormed out of the study, brushing past the confused and somewhat frightened servants cleaning in the halls. It wasn’t until he made it back to his own personal chambers that he realized that his hands were shaking. 

How dare he? How dare he after all this time go and pretend that Zib mattered at all to him. He slapped the dagger onto the nightstand, his breath quickening. This was all a ploy, a trick to get him to lower his guard and set him free. Dib wanted to reclaim his throne, to deny Zib the opportunity once more to prove he was good enough. To take all of the attention back and leave him with nothing. 

He couldn’t allow that weakness, to let himself fall for false hopes of sympathy. He’d almost succumbed to it once before. 

He could recall the evening perfectly, their 21st birthday celebration. Their father finally deemed them, well, Dib, old enough to inherit the crown if he so chose. Dib didn’t see this as the opportunity to take his place though, to lead the country into a new era. No. Dib only thought of how he could fail, anxiety and worry occupying all of his mind. The two separated from the crowd, Dib clearly having drunk a touch too much champagne and Zim being preoccupied it fell to him to deal with the panicking prince. Gir had gotten into the cake. Again. Zim would be busy for a while. 

After at least ten minutes of listening to Dib worry and fret about “not being good enough” and other such sentiments, Zib suggested they ditch the party. Go to his study. Dib excitedly entered the area, gushing over the tomes and items he’d carefully curated. For a moment, they were back in their shared room, pouring over theories and writing down each scrap of evidence they could find. Dib asked questions, and Zib responded, his twin’s curiosity and excitement contagious even despite his better judgement. 

For a moment he’d forgotten why he brought Dib there in the first place.

But the universe was quick to remind him of his place. Dib found their- _his_ notebook, the one documenting his success in teaching himself magic. In seconds, Dib figured out what he’d accomplished, asking Zib to demonstrate. To show what he could do. To teach him how to do magic as well.

Dib wanted to take from him the only niche in his possession. Well. He wasn’t about to take that lying down. No. With his mind finally made up, he told Dib that he be more than happy to give a demonstration. Clicking his fingers to lock the door tight. The serene expression he’d plastered on to lull Dib into a false sense of security warping into a vindictive snarl. 

Zib had relished in the joy draining from his brother’s face as he cornered him, hands lit a lavender hue, darkening to a deep purple as the power the coursed through him grew. He could still feel that sick satisfaction rise when he thought about it. For once, the cards were in his hands.

After years of staying quiet, he finally let out all of the hate and venom that sat always at the tip of his tongue. 

“You want to learn magic? You want to just, take all of the work I did _alone_ for yourself? Well too. Fucking. Bad. My whole life, everything has been about you. Always you. I’ve dealt with living in your shadow for long enough. Maybe you’ll finally see things from my point of view. You’ll have plenty of time to self-reflect on what you’ve done. You’ll get to see what it’s like to fade away.” 

And then it was done. It took Dib several seconds after the spell was completed to realize what had happened. Pressing a hand to the surface in front of him. Fear and panic apparent as he hit and kicked at the glass before Zib stepped in front of the mirror. Dib’s form snapping to meet his. He paled, now fully understanding his situation. 

“What did you do? Zib, what did you do to me?”

“What I’ve wanted to do for years. Exist without _you_.”

And that had been it. Zib sat back and watched as his father sent out search party after search party to no avail. Zim returning to Irk, only to come back weeks later, desperate for answers, for a sign. Dib’s lack of presence slowly became the new normal, allowing him to finally breathe.

Still, a piece of him wanted to believe Dib really did care. A part of him that wanted nothing more than to run back into that study and let his brother out. To hold him close and apologize. That same urge he’d had as a small child whenever a prank got out of hand. His twin had always forgiven him in the end, giving a small smile and making him promise to give up his dessert as an apology. Zib felt the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, the weight of what he’d done crashing back onto him. Dib’s face… His voice… He’d been sincere, hadn’t he? Why? Why did he care? 

In his single-minded fixation of revenge, Zib ignored Dib out of spite most of the time, content to let his brother languish in isolation. He hadn’t been prepared for what he’d seen when Dib spoke. He looked more transparent than he remembered; the tips of his fingers barely visible, his hands halfway gone. eyes looked dim, the concern genuine, but the life behind them diminished. Then, just as Dib went to say something else, he stopped. All semblance of a person gone as he simply copied Zib’s movements. No fear or horror in his face, no misplaced pity. Nothing.

A mere reflection.

That, that wasn’t supposed to happen. The curse was only supposed to physically bind him. As soon as Zib noticed it, Dib was back. Seemingly unaware of what just happened. Had this happened before? Did he not see it? How many times had he missed it? 

How long until he stayed that way?

The prince slumped against the wall, unable to stop himself from collapsing. He didn’t deserve that. What he’d done, it was so much worse than some measly prank. He’d committed treason, and given time, murder. Pure and simple. He could feel the many, many consequences for his transgressions pressing in on him, just as he felt regret lingering like an unwelcome fog. 

Dib likely assumed that his original intention was for him to eventually vanish, becoming one with the mirror. Yet he still asked about Zib’s well-being. 

Then it came to him. 

_It didn’t matter whether or not Dib cared._

His twin’s very existence was the problem. No matter what Dib said or did, he stood as an ever-present obstacle. One that he now could eliminate. Dib’s current… condition couldn’t be fixed without letting him out, and the second he did that, Dib would ruin everything. No false reassurances would prevent him from eventually slipping up, from telling the truth. He couldn’t risk that, even at the expense of his brother’s life. 

Zib was on the verge of getting everything he’d ever wanted now. The throne within his grasp, the attention of his father, a spotlight no longer resting on his brother, leaving him off stage waiting for a cue that would never come. Zib held power that no other living being in his country, possibly even the world possessed; he was not about to let all that he’d worked for be cast aside because of Dib. Not again. If that meant putting aside a few moral boundaries he’d do it. 

He’d come too far already. He looked again to the knife, the next line he could cross. Today would make his victory official.

He had nothing to lose, and the kingdom to gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah after this point Zib stops second guessing his actions. He’s justified, in his mind, this much, what makes anything else any different? The end is so much more important than the means.


	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future is uncertain for many, but weathering a storm is easier when you aren't doing it alone.

Tak tried to unwind the pit in her stomach with her usual routine. Wake up, grab a small bite to eat from the kitchen, practice solo, spar, sharpen her weapons, grab dinner, then fight one on one with Gaz. As the whetstone ground away any imperfections in her loyal blade, that dread remained. It didn’t take a genius to know why. 

The heir to the Membrane throne remaining missing after 4 months had the whole nation waiting for the other shoe to drop. Personally speaking, she wanted the prince found as fast as humanly possible. Not for Zim’s sake, or out of concern for his personal safety. The prince could lose a leg for all she cared. No, she cared because the treaty between Tierras and Irk hung in the balance of Zim and Dib’s engagement, and losing that meant losing her only shot at climbing up the ranks. Of making her own path. 

A small commotion from the other side of the barracks wall in the garden caught her attention. That sounded like Zim. Before she could pull her sword to attempt to fulfill her duty to the kingdom of Irk, her charge stormed into view, followed by Prince Zib and Princess Gaz. Without a word he grabbed her wrist, dragging her into the castle, leaving the other two royals to stare after them.

“My prince?! What on earth are you doing?” Tak pulled against Zim, but his grip held surprisingly firm. “Let go of me!” 

“We’re leaving. Come help me pack my belongings. We will talk there.”

“What-“

“That is an order.”

The empty tone in his voice killed any further protest. He’d never spoken to her like that. Like Miyuki would. She allowed the prince to continue guiding her, too stunned to argue. 

The Irkens arrived in Zim’s room, no words exchanged as Zim pulled his trunks out of storage, shocking Gir out of his nap. Throwing his clothes out of the wardrobe, letting the garments crumple to the floor. His hands visibly shaking. Tak set her sword to the side, irritation and curiosity getting the better of her. 

“Your highness, why the sudden departure?”

“He is dead.”

Tak blinked, what death would cause Zim to want to go home this badly? Had one of his brothers passed on? 

“Who is dead?”

Zim pulled out an all too familiar dagger from his belt. Its amber stone glistening in the fading sunset. He hugged it to his chest, head bowed in grief. Tak had been the one to reluctantly suggest the addition to the engagement gift, to tie it properly to its recipient. 

“They found this on the shore along with what was left of the ship.”

He moved to the bed, staring vacantly at the floor. His faithful companion curling up at his feet, mismatched eyes filled with equal sorrow.

“There is nothing left for me here, so we are going back to Irk.”

She bristled at his tone, anger at the prospect of returning to that dingy hovel in the middle of nowhere burying any sympathy. The crown princes made the terms of her employment clear, and her whole future was at stake now for what? One spoiled brat’s broken heart? Tak bristled, lips curling in a sneer at the thought of Zim lounging in his room back in Irk while she slaved away in the pig sties. 

“Pardon my questioning,” Tak bit out, “but what is there for you in Irk? You’re only of use to the kingdom because of this treaty. What will you do? Just linger around the castle until Her Majesty marries you off to someone else? All of Irk thinks you’re useless anyways.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Tak shrunk back at Zim’s tone, all cold steel and disdain. She watched as Zim uncurled himself, standing far below her height but making her feel oh so small. 

“Do you really think I never noticed the way Her Majesty looks at me as if I’m an amusing puppy rather than a capable son? The fact that the servants despise me? How the people laugh at me and consider me a stain on the royal family? Let me tell you something Tak, do you know why I’m afraid of water?” 

She couldn’t bring herself to speak, wholly unnerved by Zim’s change in demeanor. Zim’s eyes never wavering from hers as he spoke.

“Because when I was all of seven, dear Red decided that having a younger brother meant competition for Miyuki’s favor, and thus the throne. So, he decided to toss me into the lake knowing full well that I could not swim. I learned that day that to be taken seriously meant I would die. So, I acted. And it worked. It certainly fooled you didn’t it?”

It had. Despite seeing firsthand Zim’s prowess in both dealing with court and with a short sword in her time as his glorified babysitter, she’d never thought of him as more than a nuisance.

“But Dib, Dib saw me.”

The prince turned away, a small smile ghosting across his face.

“Even though we despised each other at first, he knew what I could do. He wanted to stop me, not because I was an annoyance, but because to him I was a threat. Someone to be taken seriously. And even when we stopped fighting, he still looked at me like I was the only person in the room that mattered and now he’s-“ 

Zim stopped, the life draining from his face, as if the full weight of what he was about to say hit him all at once. He staggered, looking back to the dagger in his hand. 

“He’s dead. He’s dead and I’m alone.”

The room lapsed into silence. 

“Mary is gone?” Gir’s small voice broke through the tension, “Why?” 

Zim dropped to his knees clutching the small green dog to his chest, shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. Quietly muttering “Why did he leave? Why did he leave without saying goodbye?” into his soft fur. Clinging to his only comfort.

Tak wanted to leave the room. Emotions made her uncomfortable at the best of times and seeing Zim so vulnerable, in front of her of all people? What was  _ she  _ supposed to do? Comfort him? Her? So she did the only thing that made sense. She began to pack, carefully folding the clothes scattered across the room and placing them into the trunks. Doing her best to handle the garments properly. 

Zim looked up from Gir, eyes still full of tears. He watched Tak go about sorting through his belongings, confusion overtaking the pit in his stomach.

“What- What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you pack. It’s the least I can do given the circumstances, your Highness.”

“I,” Zim gave a small smile, unsure of whether or not to trust the gesture completely, “Thank you, Tak.”

Zim stood up on shaky legs, almost folding back to the ground before Tak reached out and caught him. The prince thought for a moment before looking to her sword. 

“You know, you deserved a real shot at becoming a knight. I’ve never seen anyone fight Gaz to a standstill more than once. In all honesty you were entitled to a better job than my glorified babysitter.” 

Tak hadn’t seen Zim at any of her sparring sessions with the youngest Membrane sibling; mostly because her focus lay solely on her opponent for… various reasons. He’d gone out of his way to watch her? The more Tak recalled Zim’s various outbursts and tantrums during their stay, the worse she felt. He’d mostly gotten mad at the nobility for getting pushy with the staff, or with the guards that would throw things at Gir to try and get the poor pup to react. Even back when she’d been a maid, he’d once given her a flower, but she focused instead on how he’d tracked mud all over the floors she’d worked so hard to clean. 

She sighed, ensuring her prince wasn’t about to fall back over the moment she stepped away. 

“If I’m being honest, you probably deserved a better bodyguard.”

Zim let out a weak chuckle, more air than sound, “Guess we were stuck with each other weren’t we?” 

“I guess we were,” Tak replied. “I suppose we’ll leave in the morning then?”

“No. We will wait until after the funeral. Let the Empress decide what she will for me, but I will not stay here after that. I can’t.” 

“Of course, your Highness.”

“Please, Tak. Call me Zim.”

The two continued in silence, fearful of a future that once seemed so clear. Grieving for they’ve both lost, but mourning together. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh Tak. My girl. Learning empathy the hard way. Sure it took an entire series of catastrophes to get her there but it happens. I'm not sure what I'm writing next, but I can assure you, Zim is not stupid. He's far more observant than a certain prince gives him credit for.

**Author's Note:**

> God I fucking love Dib’s curse. Up there with some of my better ideas. He’s certainly not having a good time, and neither is anyone else. Pay attention to that knife though. :)


End file.
